


O' Unruly Sun

by timepatty



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Talking it out between bros, movie!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timepatty/pseuds/timepatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the house of Healing. Aragron and Faramir have a chat. Influenced by the movies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O' Unruly Sun

**Author's Note:**

> For all intents and purposes please pretend that no cannon exists because it has been too long since I've watched or read these masterpieces.

From the moment he entered the room, Aragorn had felt the man watching him from Éowyn's bedside. He chose not to acknowledge it, preferring to concentrate on his fallen friend. He knew how she had gained her injuries and was both proud and furious with her for it, and the man watching him, or rather her, was of no dangerous ilk. Eowyn was beautiful, even in the deep slumber of the gravely injured, and he hoped that her strength would carry her through this darkness. He had done all he could.

  
The ranger took a deep breath, taking in the atmosphere of the now calm Healing House. The sun was threatening to rise within the quarter hour; much like the servants who would probably come running swiftly for him.  
He stood swiftly and turned, hearing the soft sound of clothing as the other man turned away as though he was not watching the sleeping lady.

  
“Who are you?” Aragorn questioned gently, moving closer to the firelight as not to disclose his own identity. A fight in here would not be prudent.

  
The man turned, doing the same. He had a simple nobility to his face, although it was lined with years of hardship and recent grief. His eyes struck Aragorn as peculiarly kind and seemed to be lit with a wisdom that was more akin to the elves than a simple man of Gondor.

  
“My name is Faramir” the man stated simply and respectfully inclined his head. Aragorn nodded; he had noticed the similarities between the man and his brother when he had stepped into the firelight. He swallowed as images of the man flooded to the forefront of his mind. The smell of blood, orc and decomposing leaves was pungent in his brain. Boromir had mentioned his brother with great affection, although he did not mention him by name, he guessed that this was the man who stood before him.

  
“You are the steward of Gondor? Boromir’s brother?” Aragorn queried gently. Farmir smiled grimly.  
“I am as such. Or at least I was. Boromir met his end, and I understand that Gondor is no longer in need of a Steward?” Faramir met his eyes. There was not the bitterness that existed in Boromir and he was curiously struck by the man once more. Aragorn had travelled amongst men for many years, and thought that he had the measure of them. Yet Faramir, like Eowyn, touched on something different, something of quality that most men and women did not possess. It was not a bad thing to miss, Aragorn supposed, less hurt, less enduring pain, even without the wisdom and courage that it brought.

  
“You will always be a prince of Ilithien.” Aragorn said simply. The man had earned his title. “Gondor still has need of you, Faramir.”

  
Faramir gave a small smile. It did not sit easily on his face. “Thank you, Lord Aragorn. I hope I do not let you down”.

  
Aragorn walked towards the man, who bowed his head as he approached. He felt his heart move with compassion at the trust and submission placed in his care from one whom he had known for barley a few minutes. They were akin, both as warriors and in legacy. Aragorn reached out a hand and gently placed it on the back of Faramir’s warm neck, causing the man to look at him curiously.

  
“Faramir, I do not doubt that you will not let me down. Your brother spoke most highly of you. He was an honourable man, who stood true to the last, and I do not hesitate to believe that the same honour and courage runs through you.”

  
Faramir’s hand reached out to mirror Aragorn’s pose. He had dipped his head down again and Aragorn gave him the privacy to collect his emotions. “Thank you” he said with a rough voice. Moonlight caught his bowed head, lighting up the flyaway strands to give him a halo of moonlight. Aragorn could see the man in his mind’s eye, resplendent with sunlight upon a swift steed, leading the head of a battle while a white tree of Gondor blazed across his chest.

  
The moment was broken by a small feminine cough. They both turned to see Éowyn shift in her sleep.

  
“I see the way you watch her.” Aragorn stated, knowing that the man would not be agreeable with him playing matchmaker like an elderly woman.

  
“I see the way she clutches you”. Farmir counted a taste of sadness and acceptance in his face. Aragorn knew that he would not press the matter. He reached up and touched the Evenstar at his throat, a subtle gesture, but enough to draw the man’s eyes to the glittering jewel.

  
“My heart does not lie with her, although my respect and admiration do. She is a fine lady, braver than an army, aye, and much stronger too.” Aragorn knew that the white lady of Rohan would settle for nothing less than her own choice. “She will not accept any man, if any. Her mind is clouded with sadness and her hurts are still recent”.  
Faramir considered him and his words for a few long moments, marshalling his thoughts. Aragorn was pleased to note that it was the face of a philosopher, not a tactician, which appeared across the face of the much younger man. He had seen the awfulness of men, even ones of whom he had though loyal to him. He was not above cutting them down, even literally, for their horrendous transgressions.

  
“I have heard tales of the white lady, both of her beauty and her sadness, the same sadness that dwells within my heart. Understand that I do not seek to tame her, as many others have sought to do. But if she deems me worthy, I would like to be her faithful companion. And if she does not, her sworn friend”. The sun had started to rise, washing the moonlight away with a fierce gold radiance. It hit the planes of Faramir’s face and highlighted the high ridges. He was quite beautiful, Aragorn noted absently, sad and wise and many things besides. He knew, suddenly, that this Éowyn would accept this man, and they would not be strangers to this new kingdom he would build once Sauron was defeated. He silently wished them all the best, hiding a smile at what Arwen would think of him. She always managed to catch him listening to the elven story tellers at their work. He couldn’t help the worry gnawed at him when he thought of her also. He turned the smile to the Captain of Gondor, and reached out for his hand when he noted a page come into the room.

  
“I wish you well, Faramir. I hope we will meet again under better circumstances.”

  
“You too, Lord Aragorn. Were I in better health, I would ride out against the army you fight”. Aragorn did not doubt for a minute that he would. It would take a migty wound indeed to hold back one of Boromir’s brethren.

  
“I know that you would, Captain. But you could do worse than guarding this house and those within it.” They turned to look and Eowyn, fire streaming through her tresses as the sun burnt out the embers that had started from the close firelight. The page stepped forward, and Aragorn turned to meet it, mind already on the next step of the battle.


End file.
